


Conversations

by MontiMoth



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Gen, Trans Male Character, good dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontiMoth/pseuds/MontiMoth
Summary: In which Beau comes out to Charlie.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Conversations

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what this is :)

Beau sits on the roof of the old house, looking around at the chipped shingles and worn down dormers. The stars in the clear sky felt too expansive, too all-encompassing. It felt like the very night was going to gobble him up. The breeze blew through him, whispering sighs into his ears.  
Nothing felt aligned within him, shifting and grinding out of place.  
Charlie didn't like it when he came to sit out here, something about him falling. Beau wonders idly if that would be such a tragedy.  
Moving away from those dark thoughts, he looks out over the expanse of sicken green trees that lined the edge of Charlie's street. Beau had always hated it here; the perpetual rain, the humid fog that infected the brain. He couldn't quite place a figure as to why, but he's reminded vaguely of The Mist.  
He. It felt nice. Rounder and sharper somehow. The haircut was new, something he'd gotten in Phoenix before he had left for the summer. He'd given some bogus excuse to Charlie about it being cooler when he had commented on it, who shrugged and went about his day.  
He doesn’t know if he ever really intended to tell Charlie. That he wasn’t a girl, that he hated Forks. Those were very personal things that, to his imaginings, could only make things worse by being spoken out loud. It felt like he was casting a curse on his own life.  
It was bad enough in Phoenix where he didn’t quite fit in; here he was the chief's daughter and no one messed with the chief's daughter. The title put too much weight in his already laden chest.  
The clouds above began to roll and rumble, threatening to pour down onto the unsuspecting earth. Beau grabs his things and slips back in through the window, closing it firmly behind him.  
Downstairs, Charlie was seated in front of the TV with a beer, as per his usual habitat and behavior. He smiles meekly at Beau, who waves back equally as sheepishly.  
He hadn’t commented on much of Beau's changed appearance; not his too flat chest or his baggy clothes or the lack of makeup the girls his age were wearing. The words of his mother rang in his head. Just tell him, she’d assured, smiling. He’ll still love you.  
It wasn’t really Charlie’s love that felt on the line. It was a guaranteed sort of thing with Charlie. He loved silently, but his love held stability. A quiet structure that refused to fall. No, his love wasn’t what Beau was worried about. It was his understanding.  
Forks was a small town, and Charlie’s world was so small. Beau couldn’t imagine a scenario where he understood who Beau was, what he was trying to do. Even in Phoenix, Where Beau had gay fiends and people lived their own, individual lives, people didn’t understand him. What chance did he have in Forks.  
“Bella,” Charlie says, jerking him out of his stupor. “You okay?”  
He wasn’t entirely sure.  
“Dad,” he says, steeling himself. “I need to talk to you.”  
Charlie looks questionly at him, but muted the TV and sat up, propping his arms on his knees in his listening posture.  
“You don't want to come back next year, do you?”  
Beau hadn’t anticipated this. He thought he’d kept his displeasure with the small town hidden inside him, rotting away at him slowly but silently still.  
In truth, Beau didn’t mind Forks. All of its sickening stillness could be looked past. Too many people here, however, knew him by a name that didn’t fit who he was. He’d start high school next year in Phoenix in a different district, where they would only know him as Beau. Everyone here knew him from day one. It was too small, too close to home. He needed the space to be who he truly was, and Forks wasn’t that place.  
“How did you know that?”  
“I’m more observant than most give me credit for,” Charlie said, sighing. “You're sad here. I can tell.”  
Beau sighed back, suddenly feeling very guilty. “It’s more complicated than that.”  
“Talk to me, Bells.”  
As he said it, he looked uncomfortable. This seemed more like a fatherly obligation to him than something he wanted to do, but Beau couldn’t fault him for that. He very much did not want to be having this conversation either. It needed to happen, though, Beau knew.  
“This place… too many people know me. I just need time to… Dad, I’m not who you think I am.”  
Charlie looked puzzled at this. “Who on earth are you if not my daughter?”  
It stung, but he didn’t know what he was saying.  
“Dad, I’m trans.”  
Charlie looked at him, comprehension not lighting his eyes as expected. “What?”  
He said it not in outrage but in genuine confusion, like he wasn’t sure what Beau was saying.  
“Transgender. I’m a boy, Dad.”  
Realization finally marred his face, forcing him into abject silence for a few beats. “Oh,” Was all he said.  
“Please don’t be mad with me.” Beau wasn’t sure where this came from, but he felt a genuine insecurity at being accepted by the man who fathered him. He didn’t think he’d care quite so much what Charlie felt about the situation, but he did.  
“Why would I be mad?” He said, surprised. “I’m… shocked, I guess. But not mad. In fact, I’m glad you told me.”  
Relief flooded all of Beau’s body, releasing a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  
“But you feel like you can’t be in Forks now because…?”  
“Too many people know me as Bella. I just need some space to figure out who I am before coming back here.”  
Charlie looked a little disappointed, but smiled all the same. “I can’t claim to understand… well, any of this, but I respect your choice. How about this. We go on vacation for a week or two next summer and go from there. Sound like a plan, Bells?”  
“Beau.”  
“What?”  
“My name. It’s Beau. Short for Beaufort.”  
Charlie looks at him for a second, amusement playing at his eyes. “And you picked that on your own?”  
“I know, it’s… old fashioned, but—“  
“No! No, I like it. It’s very you.”  
Beau smiles at the genuineness with which this was said. “Sounds like a plan, Dad.”  
Beau went to bed that night, content with the fact that his father not only loved him, but accepted him too.


End file.
